Intifada
by nostalgia
Summary: Short AU in which the Dominion wins the war and Julian faces a moral dilemma. Dark.


Title: Intifada  
  
Author: nostalgia  
  
Rating: A fairly strong PG  
  
Disclaimer: Paramount own these people. They probably wouldn't   
  
approve.  
  
Warnings: Rather dark, and not everyone makes it to the end in one   
  
piece. Proceed at your own risk.  
  
Summary: Sometimes there is no right answer.  
  
= = = = =  
  
"I think you have a good case," says the Vorta. "You've shown   
  
sympathy for our cause on a number of occasions. And, of course,   
  
without you we would never have been able to cure the Founders."  
  
Th prisoner stays silent. To Vorta continues, unperturbed. "I believe   
  
I can convince the War Crimes Committee that you were forced into   
  
your anti-Dominion activities by the Federation. You were an   
  
unwilling victim of their war."  
  
"I knew exactly what I was doing."  
  
"You say that now, but you're still affected by their indoctrination.   
  
In time you will come to realise that they were using you, distorting   
  
your will." She smiles, benevolent.  
  
The prisoner glares.   
  
"Of course," she continues, "There is still the matter of Lieutenant   
  
Dax. You good conduct does not absolve her." The Vorta pauses,   
  
playing the moment. "Our intelligence suggests that the two of you   
  
share an intimate relationship. I'm sure you wouldn't want to see her   
  
come to any harm. Perhaps..."  
  
Julian tries and fails not to look hopeful.   
  
"The Dominion is always in need of good doctors."  
  
"I work for you and you let Ezri go?"  
  
"Yes, that seems fair to me. We're not the heartless monsters your   
  
former employers led you to believe. We appreciate the value of   
  
mercy."  
  
"What would I have to do?"  
  
"The Dominion is interested only in maintaining our current borders.   
  
We are peaceable enough when left alone. But there are those who   
  
would attack us, take civilian lives to gain a little extra   
  
territory. We cannot allow that to happen. We must have deterrents."  
  
"You want me to help you make biological weapons?"   
  
"NOt weapons, Doctor, merely the capability and the potential." She   
  
studies the human before her. "Are you interested?"  
  
"But why do you need me? You have plenty of scientists of your own."  
  
"Alas, they specialise in Gamma Quadrant biology. They will learn in   
  
time, of course, but for now we find ourselves rather lacking in   
  
certain areas." She tilts her head slightly to one side, fixes her   
  
prisoner with an appraising gaze. "How many ways do you know to kill,   
  
say, a human?"  
  
He says nothing.  
  
"This really isn't going to get us anywhere, Julian. I should   
  
probably point out at this juncture that certain supplies have gone   
  
missing from the camp infirmary. Supplies which, if I'm not mistaken,   
  
would be very effective in treating the illness Lieutenant Dax seems   
  
to have acquired. I don't think the evidence reflects very well on   
  
either of you."  
  
He sighs, defeated, "Two thousand four hundred and twenty-eight."  
  
"I'll give you some time to think on the matter. I'm sure you'll make   
  
the right decision."  
  
- - - - -  
  
Three hours later and the right decision still evades him. He lies on   
  
the bunk staring at the ceiling, following the lines cracked into the   
  
thin plaster.  
  
A weak cough breaks into his thoughts and he leans over the side to   
  
look down at Ezri. He has been sleeping in the bunk above her,   
  
fearful of infection. He jumps down to the ground and kneels beside   
  
her, checking her pulse and her temperature. "You're a little better   
  
today," he lies, though she is unconscious and he doubts she can hear   
  
anything. "And we might be getting out of here. Maybe. If I can   
  
overcome my own conscience." Her eyelids flicker as she starts   
  
another cycle of REM sleep. "So if you could just wake up for a few   
  
minutes to give me some advice, that would be lovely. Also quite   
  
helpful."  
  
But she, of course, continues to sleep. "They're using you against   
  
me, Ezri. What should I do?"  
  
She moves slightly, murmurs something incomprehensible. For a brief   
  
moment, he hates her.   
  
- - - - -  
  
He takes a walk around the camp, breathes in thin air as he tries to   
  
work out what he should do. He tries to approach the problem with   
  
clinical detachment, but the answer that results in is never the one   
  
he wants.  
  
He wanders through a prison camp wracked with disease and tries to   
  
justify biological warfare. The war has taught him not to trust the   
  
Dominion, and he doubts their claims that they will use his work only   
  
as a deterrence.   
  
Night falls, and he is still uncertain. He walks back to the   
  
barracks, shadowed most of the way by a suspicious Jem'Hadar guard.   
  
- - - - -  
  
He pulls back the blanket and slips into the bunk with her. She   
  
shivers in the disturbed air, moulds her body against his in her   
  
search for heat. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her   
  
hair. "Everything will be alright," he says, although he knows she   
  
cannot hear him.   
  
He lies still for a few minutes, running through his options. None of   
  
them bring him peace. He decides to go with the last remaining   
  
possibility - he is going to cheat. He prays to a God he does not   
  
believe in to tell him that there are no gods.  
  
Reaching inside his shirt he removes the hypospray that he stole from   
  
the makeshift infirmary.   
  
"I have something. It'll help." She doesn't resist as he presses the   
  
device against her neck, empties its contents into her bloodstream.  
  
Her breathing slows, her movements calm a little.   
  
Careful not to disturb her, he replaces the cartridge, inserting the   
  
second dose. His skin stings for a moment as he administers the drug,   
  
but it passes, and he feels the tension leave his muscles. He closes   
  
his eyes, because keeping them open suddenly seems so much effort.   
  
Beside him, Ezri is still, the fever gone forever. He feels his   
  
temperature drop as his heart slows, rests her head on his chest as   
  
he mentally charts the steady drop in his own blood pressure.   
  
"It's alright, Ezri," he whispers, "The war's over now." He thinks of   
  
Earth, and sunny days.   
  
Eventually, he stops thinking.   
  
- - -   
  
When the Vorta arrives with the Jem'Hadar guards, the bodies are   
  
already cold. "Now whyever did he do that?" she asks. But she gets no   
  
answer from the Jem'Hadar. Like her, they've never really understood   
  
humans. 


End file.
